Going Greek

I’m not someone that is particularly fond of admitting that I was wrong about something, so let’s go ahead and appreciate that this entire post is a revelation within itself. But while we are here I will go ahead and say it, I was wrong. Incredibly wrong. And thank goodness I discovered this before I let one of the greatest opportunities of my lifetime pass me by.

I was raised in a fairly conservative family full of aunts and uncles that for the most part went one of two places, Freed Hardeman or Auburn. My father’s two sisters both attended FHU, a smaller Christian college in Henderson, Tennessee and there were certainly no Greek organizations available to them there. My uncle and aunt on my mother’s side both went to Auburn but both my mother and my aunt were in band so they were immediately thrust into a group and had little time for themselves with the hectic schedule of an Auburn band member. My father transferred from Freed after completing two years there and entered the engineering program at Auburn which also left little time for a social life. Not only that, both of my parents had a wonderful Christian Student Center that they were blessed to be a part of. It was run by a brilliant and Christ focused man and wife that did everything in their power to keep their church functioning like a family. So needless to say, sororities and fraternities were not really things I was exposed to in life. Growing up I basically accepted all cliché and stereotypical assumptions of what “Greek life” really was. My view of sororities was based on the interpretation I developed from Legally Blonde and as far as frats I was under the impression that they were exactly what you saw on any public television show which in a brief summary consisted only of minor criminal acts and drunken evenings.

 When I came to Troy University as a freshman, I was broken. I had just lost my sister and I entered school with blinders on. I wasn’t open to anyone or anything, I was purely trying to survive my grief, and furthermore the idea of calling anyone a “sister” was acutely painful, so I completely ignored all encouragements to Rush and absolutely refused to expose myself to anyone in the Greek community. I am ashamed to say that over the past few years of my life I have developed a life view of intolerance. But not your conventional kind. I have seen a lot of things. I have had a very unique set of life experiences that have separated me from many of my friends. And because of the suffering I have witnessed and the people I have had the opportunity of serving that have stolen my heart, I developed this reverse racism towards the people around me. Throughout my first two years of college I began discriminating against middle to upper class white people. I was almost disgusted by them. I looked around campus at all the people in nice clothes with meal plans and paid for housing and hated them just for having things because of my compassions towards those that didn’t. I became close minded and hardened my heart towards people that had just as much of a soul as anyone else, just because they weren’t suffering outwardly. How awful of me. I had become exactly what I didn’t want to be, just by being more understanding towards one group of people than another. It’s great that I can walk into project housing and not be frightened and it’s awesome that I can speak to a homeless person without turning my nose, but it is just as sinful for me to develop preconceived notions about other children of God on this campus.

This summer God slapped me in the face. And I couldn’t be more grateful. In the spring semester of 2014 I came to the realization that I couldn’t financially afford another summer of mission work and I was devastated. I had also realized that I was a couple of hours behind in my classification as a junior and since graduating late is not an option, I needed to take at least three summer classes. So the decision was made for me to remain in Troy this summer and work as a waitress to save money and take the classes that were required. And let me tell you I could not have been more bitter about it. Not only is Troy downright suffocating in regards to its size, there was no one here and I was in school while my friends were doing wonderful things with their summer and I was a brat about it. I started work at the restaurant with the intentions of making money, not worrying about friends, and going home at the end of the night to continue pouting about how awful my summer was. That’s when a few lovely people entered my life like a whirlwind and turned it upside down. As the summer continued I was exposed to two of the first Greek people I had ever been around and they became my best friends. I was shocked to discover that they were nothing like I had expected them to be, and as I continued to be around them and meet their friends I realized that they were just people. They ordered water with their meals, not pitchers of beer. And we watched movies at their house, not crazy parties. They took me as I was, and they didn’t ask me to change. Throughout the summer my friend continued to encourage me to Rush, but I was still so unsure. I was going to be a junior, who pledges at 21? And what if no one liked me? And what would my parents think? She was more than patient and insisted that I do what was best for me, but that I needed to decide that for myself, not based on anyone else. I came to the conclusion that it has been a long time since I felt at home. I have been at Troy for two years and never found a place that fit. What’s more, it has been a long time since I have done something for myself. And I wanted this. I wanted to feel loved and encouraged by a group of people. I wanted to let my hair down a little and enjoy being a kid while I still had the chance. And most dear to my heart, I wanted sisters. So I did it.

I have always been scared to call anyone a sister. I had a sister. And she was the most perfect and wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. Anytime she is forgotten or I feel as though she has been replaced it pains me. No one will be the sister to me that she was. But I can love like she did. I can be the sister she was to each of these ladies that will soon become mine, and when I ache for her I know they will replenish me with the love she can no longer offer. My sister loved big so it will take a small army to assist her. I miss my Bailey, and if she could be here I would choose her over any sister in the world. But I know her, and I know that if this is an opportunity for to feel loved and supported, and if there could be someone to care for me like she used to, she would want that for me.

The other day I was at a house getting ready for semi-formal (a frivolous event I never would have believed I would have been a part of, but alas) and as we were sitting there experimenting with makeup colors and burning our fingers on curling irons, Bailey came up. I don’t remember why or how but I sat there with these girls and felt completely comfortable pouring my heart out about her. And it was so comforting getting to talk about her, and share stories about this conqueror for Christ and have them fall in love with her just as much as everyone else does. And I was so thankful for that. But what shocked me even more was what followed. As we sat there, each girl began sharing their own story of loss. A best friend, a grandfather, a cousin. And this is when God molded my heart. I sat there in stunned realization that all of my assumptions about these women that I had developed over the years, were completely wrong. Just because they were beautiful and took cute pictures and went to fun events and associated themselves with letters, their lives weren’t perfect. They can’t escape that reality of living any more than I could. At the end of the day, life is a challenge for anyone that is a part of it. And no one is exempt from the harshness of pain or struggle. Everyone is battling something, everyone has personal obstacles, and no one’s is bigger or smaller than mine. As I sat there listening to the honesty of their convictions and their desires for their future and the lessons from their heartaches I knew I was where I belonged. So I am sorry. For spending too much time judging what I didn’t know. And thank you. Thank you for proving me wrong. Thank you for taking me as I am. Thank you for already loving me more than I knew was possible. Thank you for encouraging me to be my best self. Thank you for being willing to be my sister. And most of all, thank you for bringing me home.

2 years

The way I see it you can look at God one of two ways. You can choose to believe that God is within every single moment of every single day. That His hand is a part of each decision whether large or small. That every action is divinely created. If you get stuck in traffic God had specifically designed this event giving you some sort of opportunity. Everyone you meet has a very specific intention for your life. Every pause, every thought, every inkling- is God. Or you can choose to believe that God is all powerful and He set the world into motion and certainly has the power to intervene, but has chosen not to. He instead allows things to happen the way they are going to and He sits back and essentially knows the outcome but doesn’t encourage or prevent any particular decisions. I’m not sure at this stage in my life which I believe. I think it is sometimes different for everyone. I don’t believe it is necessarily crucial to have this defined. But it does create two very opposite world views that leave little room for wavering. Once you have committed to believing one, they can’t bleed into one another. And you have to adopt the entire concept to your entire life. So I can believe that Bailey was created, to die. That every second of every day was preparing her for this tragic death. That every thought we every had pertaining to her was supposed to be some sort of clue of her early departure. That every moment of that night, set the timing perfectly for that wreck to happen at that place, and that time. Or I can choose to believe that there wasn’t necessarily a set plan. Life happens the way it does and sometimes it consists of terrible things that are in no way fair. But God is above it, watching and aware, but not interfering. And frankly I don’t know which one makes me feel better. Part of me would prefer that have been her purpose. That she had this “mission” almost. God created and designed this perfect girl for this life that would teach us so much, and that was the deal all along. And part of me would much rather believe that God didn’t arrange this entire thing. That He allows life to happen because it has to, but he didn’t sacrifice her for some Divine message we were supposed to grasp. I will never claim to be wise or act like I in any way have this figured out. I don’t understand how death selects. I have more trouble understanding why I have made it this long and she has not. I put myself in far more dangerous situations and I am far less impressive. I often feel very inadequate and I wonder why God gave me this testimony. I am sure that Bailey could have done far more with it and that she would have had much more success in this life than I, so it astounds me that God chose to leave me here with a message that I could potentially completely ruin.
I think the first year I was so frantic to find a meaning. I was desperate to find the end result. I didn’t question God or the action, but I needed to understand the purpose of it all. I needed to discover my “job”. What was I supposed to do with this new life? Because that is honestly how it felt. My entire worldview was changed in three minutes. It took one event with an astounding message of clarity to completely altar how I looked at life, and Christ, and humanity. And when you are faced with that revelation, what do you do? Where do you go from there? So I spent a year trying to figure out what Bailey’s death was supposed to mean for me, and my life. I was convinced I was supposed to do something in her name, and spend my life respecting her in some way. That my new life was to be centered around her. But two years removed with a little more clarity and my decision making not so clouded with emotion, I don’t think that was what Bailey’s death was supposed to teach me at all. Bailey didn’t expect me to change God’s plan for my life, because she wasn’t here to live her own anymore. God designed each of us with very separate paths and very separate missions and testimonies. He never expected me to pick up Bailey’s life and continue it for her. He knew that I would lose Bailey, and He knew that would affect me profoundly and for eternity. It changed me in more ways that I can count. But it was meant to mold me, for MY mission, not for hers. Some people ask me if they think Bailey would be proud of me for going to Houston or starting Impact Troy or whatever else. Or they insist that she is looking down on it all and is more than pleased with me. And that may be true. But frankly, Bailey would be delighted in whatever I chose to do with my life. She was my biggest fan. And whether I was studying to become a biologist or an English teacher, as long as Christ was the center of my life she would be more than excited for me. I don’t have to make any radical life decisions because she died to please her. With that being said, I do believe God has called me to do certain things that may not be ‘normal’ and I am more than looking forward to fulfilling those duties. But I think one of the best things I did for myself this year was remove that burden of responsibility that had convinced me I had to “do” something with her death. I hope my blogs are helpful. I hope my writing is able to touch people in ways that I can’t explain. I hope that I am the vessel Christ has called me to be. But I also feel content if they aren’t. Bailey dying wasn’t some “lesson” for our family or an opportunity for us to lead or show people how to grieve. I don’t believe that’s how God works. He didn’t “choose” us because He believed we were strong enough to handle it. Tragic things happen. That’s life. It’s why He created Heaven as our actual home and made it so much greater than anything we could imagine. If this place was so wonderful we wouldn’t want to leave. An awful thing happened to our family, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Ever. But it just happened. There’s no moral to the story here, no big finale. We may never understand the purpose and there may never be a defining theme. So you just pick up the pieces. You try to live each day the best you can. God makes good out of bad because that’s who He is and good is all He can produce. But there is no reason. There is no selection. It just, is. And that might be there hardest part of death or sickness or tragedy, to grasp. That at the end of the day there is no rhyme or reason to any of it. It is just this world. So having made this revelation over the course of this year, this is what I propose.
We make it through.
That’s it. We figure out how to navigate this thing called life because all we have to do is make it to the finish line and we have won. We surround ourselves with people that love us. We find our kindred Christian spirits. We pick up as many souls as possible on the way. We light our communities, and cities, and country, and the world with hope of what life could hold. But we remember at the end of the day that if someone dies, or we never get married, or we can’t have children, or we get cancer, or something awful and terrible happens to us that we could never believe would be God’s plan for our life- We just have to make it through. I believe in a place called Heaven. I believe that it will be miraculous and beyond my wildest dreams. I believe without a doubt that it will be so much more than what we are among now. If anything, losing Bay has caused me to focus more on my destination than ever before. I covet my Heavenly home.
So with the tradition of the anniversary of December 2^nd, here is my letter to Heaven.

Dear Bailey,

It is absolutely impossible for me to believe that you have been gone for two years. At times it feels like such a short amount and at others it feels as though we have been forced to live without you for much longer than that. I still remember the 2^nd like it was yesterday, and sometimes that haunts me. I remember every heart wrenching moment from seeing you for the last time, to lowering you in the ground. They are painful memories, and I avoid them, but they are acute and looming especially this time of year. The calendar makes me nauseous. But it is important for you to understand that I don’t feel this way every day. Mostly when I think of you it is fond and warm and comforting. It’s just these few days that are tough. I want to share with you instead what I have learned this year. It has been a long one, full of missing you. There is not a day that goes by that something doesn’t happen that I wish I could tell you. You know what I think I miss the most about you? I miss your companionship obviously and the friendship we shared. But I really miss being a big sister to you. I miss having someone to learn from my mistakes or even triumphs. Life seems so much more worthwhile when you can pass something along. So I am going to be your big sister today. Play along, I need this. Here is what I learned in 2013. First of all, Disney is perfect and if you ever get the chance to do the college program you totally should. I don’t know what you want to major in so it may not work with your schedule, but if you can fit it in, do it. Partly because you would love it and partly because I could visit you and get in for free. Two, love is a confusing and terrifying and beautiful and sometimes disappointing thing. And because it is such a complex emotion it is mostly just scary. But even if it could hurt, I don’t want you to ever miss out on the chance to experience it. It is the energy of this world, the vibrancy of this life. And even when it doesn’t work out, one day you will look back and be glad you felt it at all. Also, never take any situation for granted. Even if you can’t understand why something didn’t work out the way you envisioned it, there is always a lesson to be learned. You may not ever understand what the specific lesson is, but take every situation in stride. Be aware and honest of all the actions that went into it, both yours and others. Remember the definition of insanity. Thirdly, listening to God is hard. And frankly you will never know if you are doing it right. There will be time you are absolutely certain God was pointing you a certain direction and then you realize halfway there that was in no way the plan. That’s okay, it happens. Just turn around and pray on the way back so that maybe you get a clearer picture and can guess right the next time. God commends those that are actively trying to listen, even if we don’t always hear correctly. Four, don’t make decisions based on other people. Ever. Your life is between you and God. And sometimes that’s hard. There may be times that even your family doesn’t understand or agree with God’s calling for your life. But at the end of the day these are your earthly friends and earthly family and the only person you have to answer to is your Heavenly father. He determines a much larger fate for you than anyone down here. Five, don’t be afraid to go against the status quo. God may call you to do something different. It may be something He hasn’t called anyone else around you to do. But you have to commit to that. As the body of Christ, we HAVE to have people that are faithful enough to do something radical if God asks it of them. Fear is a tool of the devil. And sixth, if you are lucky enough to love someone as much as I love you, tell them every day. Tell everyone around you exactly how you feel. Because this life is too short for shame. There is no embarrassment in being brave enough to admit love. Love everyone. Dangerously and compassionately with your whole being. Even when it is not returned, there is no regretting love. It is perfect. God created it. Show it and express it every day, in every way, to everyone.
I miss being your sister. I miss having you as my best friend. I miss you every second of every day.
But I love you so much more.
Thank you for being mine.

Your loving big sister,
Elise

The truth behind Disney.

I have heard it said that the second year of grieving is harder than the first. I was unsure how I felt about this until the second year has been upon me for eleven months now and I must say that I certainly agree. In year one everything is still foggy. Part of you is still in shock. You just brace yourself for each event, each “first”, and for the most part you are showered with love and encouragement because of how fresh the event is. People remember. Year two is when things get serious. It begins to dawn on you that this is permanent. There is an unsettling reality you discover that leaves you feeling nothing less than empty. You are no longer trying to make it through the next moment, you are suddenly overwhelmed with the fact that this aching will continue, forever. You will go on every single day for the rest of your life, just missing someone. Longing for them to be with you in a way they will never be capable of again. And that is exhausting. It is absolutely draining to miss someone all the time. For a while I believe I just trained myself to be without her. I had certainly been without people before. I was never a homebody so I had spent many weeks away from home, and this never bothered me. I wasn’t one to call and check in, I’d see my parents when I got around to it. So I assumed that missing Bailey would be the same. I would come to terms with the fact that I wouldn’t see her, and that was that. But I never prepared myself for the fact that I was going to have to MISS her. To really want for her to be here, when she can’t be. I have crossed over into this state of not knowing if I am grieving the person she was, and missing the sister I had, or grieving the person she could have been, and the relationship we were going to enjoy. One day I miss her the way she was, and the next day I am imagining what life would have looked like with her in it. There are days when I spend every other hour listening to her recorded voicemail on my phone so I can hear her voice again, and really commit it to memory. And there are other days that I spend my time daydreaming about what she would sound like now, and what color her hair would be. What colleges would she be looking at? Would she come stay in my house with me in Troy? Everything that happens, big or small, I wonder how different it would be if she were around. This past week I visited Disney for a day. I know, a day, but I was in desperate withdrawal and needed a quick fix and that’s all that was possible on my college budget. Now I will in no way tell you I am not obsessed with Disney, because I am. I love the man, I love the company, I love the place, I believe in it all. I adore Disney. But what most people don’t understand about my love for Disney is that is actually a little more deep than meets the eye. I’ll explain.
I hate going home. There, I admit it. I hate visiting Decatur. And that sounds awful, and I feel terrible, but it’s true. I never got to” get over” Bailey not being there. When Bailey passed I literally had three weeks in my hometown before I moved away for college. And three weeks in grief’s time, is no time. In those three weeks I was certainly showered with love and prayers and endless support, but then I left. I left home, I left safe, I left known, and I was on my own. Completely and utterly alone. In a place that Bailey had never been. Nor had I really for that matter. No one knew me and no one knew her, and I had to navigate her death through all of that? With that being said, I had tons of cards and calls and support from home, but physically I was alone. And it was difficult. Now during this time everyone was back in Decatur moving on with their lives. They were discovering how to move about in this “new normal.” But I never had that. I never learned how to live in our home without her. I never learned how to walk into Beltline and not see her casket in my mind. I never learned how to drive by Austin and not picture her friend’s devastations. I never learned how to look at my brother’s and not see them in tiny suits for their first funeral. I never learned how to make pleasant memories in Decatur. The last things I have there hold nothing but pain and sorrow, and death. At home, I share a hall with someone that is no longer alive. I share a bathroom with someone I will never see again. And I don’t understand that. I can’t process the severity of that. At this point in my life, Decatur is a place filled with lovely and wonderful people, and my family that I love, but mostly it’s just the place that my sister and best friend, died. And that’s that.
And Troy is a place that Bailey never was.
But then there is Disney. And as absolutely insane as this thought process might seem, Bailey didn’t die in Disney.
So Decatur is where she is supposed to be, and Troy is where she never was, but Disney is where she never ceased to be.
Stay with me. I cannot recount to you all of the wonderful memories our family has in Disney. I can’t remember a time we weren’t begging our parents to go back. From the time Bay and I were tiny, to the time little Carter came around, we adored the place. We walked into those parks together, happy as we could be, sharing in one another’s delight moment by moment. We rode the rollercoasters for Dad and went to every single show and parade for me. Someone endured the Teacups with Bailey each year and Dumbo was ridden in rounds. We posed for as many pictures as Mother could possibly snap and as the boys came around we readjusted to Jedi training and Star Wars rides. It’s so easy to believe in magic when you are in Disney, to dream of an alternate reality where everything is going your way. So when I am in Disney, mesmerized by pixie dust, I also feel surrounded by Bailey’s spirit. She’s not a vacancy. She is in every store and on every street corner. I can turn down Main Street and watched her skip towards the castle. I can ride the rapids in Animal Kingdom and hear her laughter. I can endure Mission Space in Epcot to remember her scream. And I can drag her with me to Beauty and the Beast in Hollywood Studios and hear her grumble. And most importantly, I can cry to Wishes and feel her beside me, tears sliding down just as shamelessly.
I have always had this really strange fear of someday falling in love with someone that didn’t know her. She is such a large part of me I cannot imagine sharing my life with someone who doesn’t know who she is. How can they fully understand me if they can’t understand that part of my life? But I do know that if that time comes, and I need someone to understand who Bailey is, not who she was, or could have been, but who she still exists to be, I will take them to the Happiest Place on Earth. We will remember her together in the most magical place.
In her Neverland, where she will never ever have to grow up.

Prepare, don't plan.

College is particularly talented at making you acutely aware of your relationship status. I’m fairly certain that universities were actually created as a social experiment and served as the world’s first dating event, roughly the equivalent of speed and online dating now. In college you are literally packed into a town with similarly aged people with way too much free time and little to no serious responsibilities. And this makes room for all sorts of relationships to form. And while most also create lifelong friendships, the one thing you are truly most concerned about is finding is your spouse. And anyone that tells you this is not the case is quite frankly, lying. Now I am not insinuating that this is the only reason people go to college. If that were my case I would certainly be at a Christian school picking through all the missions majors. However, even if it is not the motivating factor in receiving a diploma, it is certainly in the back of everyone’s mind with each passing school year and birthday. I will admit that I really didn’t believe this would ever concern me, growing up. I have striven to avoid most social stigmas and when people told me I would eventually have baby fever and want a husband, I brushed this off as emotions I wouldn’t have to deal with. And rest assured that baby fever is nowhere near me. In fact, I have the opposite of that. Baby anti-fever. But as embarrassing as it is, I confess my worry in the husband area has become a bit of a nuisance. I in no way believe I am ready for that commitment, nor do I really want to be. I have no interest in being married at this particular point in my life. But there are times that I would like to know that it is somewhat a possibility for my life. That being said, if I am honest with myself, I am very content with where I am now. I have achieved a balance that I haven’t had in a long time. You see, before when I wasn’t in a relationship or didn’t have some guy to fill my time with some sort of attention, it made me nervous. I had to be looking for the next one. And it’s not that I would define myself with guys, because I don’t. In fact, usually I do the opposite. I become so concerned with that thought that I keep my relationship almost a step away from secret, so I will still seem independent. But if I didn’t have a guy on the sidelines or backstage to fill my time or boost my ego, I was panicked. Especially if I was ever truly hurt, the way I would assuage my heartbreak was by simply, replacing. But God intervened. And it has been a turning point for me. Not too long ago, I fell down the tree of heartbreak and hit every branch on the way down. And when I landed, I frantically looked around, trying desperately to find someone to fix those bruises. Someone, as in another boy, to distract me from what I felt was a devastating loss. But for the first time in a long time, there was no one there. And not only was there no one there, but my challenge was increased by me moving to Houston, where I knew absolutely no one. And let me tell you, there were slim pickin’s in Houston, my friends. So there I was, bruised and broken with no one but God, girl friends, and kiddos. And you know what? It was the best thing that has ever happen to me, post-boy troubles. I spent a summer allowing children to heal me. I created close and honest friendships and truly allowed people inside my normally, tightly-sealed walls. And I learned to truly rely on God as my ultimate Comforter. And after a full summer of contentment I was nervous about coming back to school and being surround by couples and difficult memories. But God has continued to provide comfort and strength and I have found a balance that doesn’t require a man. A balance within myself that in no way comes easily or naturally, but has certainly made me better. I am beyond confident that I am in no condition to be in any sort of a romantic relationship right now, and what’s more I am CONTENT with that. So with all of that being said, why would I in any way be worried about a husband if I don’t even want a boyfriend? And the answer to that is simple. I’m not worried about a husband. Right now. In fact, it doesn’t even cross my mind on most days. It’s when I think to the future, when I foolishly try to plan my own life, that I get concerned. I am certain that God has called me into missions. I know that I was designed and created to go into the mission field and I in no way intend to deny God in that aspect of my life. But how is that going to work? Ideally, I would find a man that would want to do missions alongside, but what if I fall in love with an engineer? Will he stay here and I will travel and we will have a makeshift military relationship? Will that make me a bad wife? I certainly desire to fulfill the idea of a Godly wife, but which is worse, not living up to God’s expectations of me as a spouse, or as a missionary? I legitimately wrestle with these thoughts. And after I do this for too long, I start to think, well the answer to this equation is really quite simple, you need to be alone. Alone. That is a terrifying word. And this is when I start to hyperventilate. I am usually pretty good at living in the moment. I don’t stress over things that are in years to come. I struggle to see the point in that. But college essentially, is all about preparing for your future. Professors remind you of that daily. And I am basically throwing myself into a sea of unknowns. I suppose we all are essentially, but apparently I have to go big or go home because I really have no clue what the plan is. This past week we were given an assignment to chart out our financial plan for the next 10 years of our lives. He told us to factor in your spouse’s pay as well, if you were married or in a committed relationship. So all my classmates went and researched their nice stable jobs and talked to their cute little boyfriends and figured out what their lives would look like. And out of the 22 person class literally 17 of them factored in a spouse pay because they were either already married or that confident in their relationship. So that left me in a group of 5 others uncertain about that part of their lives. And out of that 5, 4 of them had at least their own job to be confident in, with a very detailed 5 year plan and 401K. And what did I have? A big fat question mark. Over the entire thing. And truly, I am fine with that. I am more than excited to be the hands and feet of Christ. But when people continue to urge you to look into your future and all you see are uncertainties, it can start to concern you. So this lead me to a 4 hour prayer. Literally, 4 hours of me and God just talking it out. And I am really not very good at praying. It is certainly where I lack spiritually. But I was so overwhelmed and so desired to pour my heart out to God that I sat with Him and we talked, for 4 hours. I was more than surprised to look up and see that much time had passed. And in this prayer I spoke to Him about all of these things, but mostly about my husband. Whomever he is. And the Lord brought me to this conclusion. It is my responsibility as a Christian woman, to prepare for my husband. And so I will. I will pray for him, and think of him. I will not make decisions out of impatience for him. I want him to feel cherished and cared for, even before we met. I want him to know that I thought of him, in every decision and kept away from things that would not be productive towards our relationship. I want to be considerate, and think about how my actions today will affect his feelings in the future. I want to wait, because I truly believe the man God prepared for me is worth waiting for. But what I have come to realize in these past few weeks is that there is a difference in preparing, and planning. God expects me to prepare for my husband, not plan for him. As of now the only person that should have any influence in my life, is the Lord. The other day I was looking at a mission opportunity I’m interested in after I graduate. It is a full year mission and as I was sitting here, falling in love with the idea of this World Race, I stopped and consciously thought, “But what if I am engaged? Or married? Or in a committed relationship? I can’t leave him for a year.” ELISE, who is ‘him’? There is no ‘him’. I am limiting God’s plan for MY life and HIS work by continuing to put a figurative man into the equation. Here lies the problem. It is appropriate for me to ready myself spiritually for meeting my husband, but it is no way okay for me to make decisions for my own life based on someone I want to meet. And what’s more, I don’t think that is how God works. He isn’t going to just give me the man of my dreams because I denied Him. So throughout hours of prayer and thought this is what I continue to feel God say to me. Not right now. I have always heard that God gives three answers to prayer. Yes, no, or not right now. And I always hated the thought of, “not right now.” I’d rather just accept the facts, come to terms with the answer, and move on. But here I am, continuing to be reassured by a stupid “not right now”. But truly, it has created quite a peace within me. I really believe that if I devote my life to Christ as I am feeling Him call me to do, if I give Him these years of my life and dive into His work fearlessly, He will fulfill my needs and desires in His time. I feel God whisper, “Focus on me. Do my work. You are more useful to me by yourself right now. So forge ahead. Do as I am asking of you. I will fulfill your desires later.” And maybe this is foolish. Maybe this isn’t God’s voice. But I can’t help but feel very certain that this is a spoken truth in my life right now. So I am accepting it. And I am finding peace and contentment within the “not right now.” I know that if God is withholding it, it’s going to be something great. For now I will live in my balance and constantly remind myself to trust, and not fear. To live, and not worry. And to prepare, not plan.

I prefer the little people.

Part of me really loves college. Truly, I do. I thoroughly enjoy the late movies nights, campus ministry events, and occasional class of interest. And I am sure that I will appreciate my college education even more in later years if it helps me achieve a job with a paycheck that prevents me from living in a cardboard box on the corner of the street somewhere. But I want to know who thought it would be a good idea to cram young adults together on a campus from the ages of 18-24 and think that would in any way be a functional environment. And not only are the maturity levels of each individual differing colossally, let’s also throw in people from other countries so we can have further difficulty understanding one another, as if humans weren’t complex enough. Now don’t get me wrong, I adore diversity. In fact, one of my favorite things about Troy is the amount of international students I get to experience on a daily basis. But with all these factors working together the concept of college alone is absolute madness.  If you are fortunate, and among the vast majority, Americans are born into a fairly regular home environment. They have a mom and a dad and sometimes siblings and they are raised in a home. And in this home, you are taught a certain set of values and core beliefs, whether this is taught verbally or through actions and example. You form your first few ideas about life in this atmosphere, and it shapes your outlook on the rest of the human experience either purposefully or subconsciously. You continue growing and you spend more and more time away from your home in other settings that both test your original beliefs and help you form new ones. But at any given time in your pre-college life, there were always people surrounding you that believed close to exactly what you did, and were extremely supportive of the lifestyle that assimilated with their own. If you were an only child and had never understood the concept of sharing, you went to elementary school and a teacher helped you along the path of learning such a thing, and that became a staple rule for being a part of that classroom. Everyone around you supported and adopted the same set of rules. Or if you went to middle school and your teacher asked you to write a paper on evolution and you made the decision not to, you had your family at home that stood behind you because of their faith that was the same as yours. But in college you live with, sit next to, and eat by people with a completely different set of beliefs and values. You can literally walk into a room on your first day and end up sleeping in the same room as someone with an enormously opposite outlook on life. And at times, that can be very exciting. I can’t even begin to describe all the things I have learned from people because they have been so wonderfully different from me. But it can also be quite discouraging, and lonely, and can very quickly make you feel as though you have lost all sense of community. This will be my third semester in college and I have certainly found a home in my church here. I know that when I need to be surrounding by people with the same eternal goal as I, my place there is always waiting for me. But I also spend many evenings just frustrated with people around my age. If there is one thing I have learned by being in college, it is that I prefer the little people. The hardest thing for me about being a young adult in a college city is the lack of children. 18-24 year olds positively baffle me. Even more so than middle and high schoolers. Because at that age, we had an excuse. We were young, our brains weren’t fully developed, our hormones were crazy, it’s part of being that age, etc. Fine. But I look around me at halfway grown adults and cannot even fathom what the heck some of them are thinking half the time. Somehow some people have wandered around on this earth for more than 18 years and have yet to learn a thing. And I don’t mean the freshman that come to school not knowing how to do laundry (although that is fairly ridiculous in it’s own right). I mean, how did we make it this far in life and still not understand or know how to treat PEOPLE. It shouldn’t be a foreign concept at this point. Not only have we been surrounded by people our entire lives but we also spend most of our education talking about, people. And these people are either discussed because they treated people well, or they treated them poorly. Think about it. Some of the most famous men you studied in history. Martin Luther King Junior, treated people well. Adolf Hitler, treated people poorly. Jesus, treated people well. Joseph Stalin, treated people poorly. Abraham Lincoln, treated people well. Osama Bin Laden, treated people poorly. So not only do we have enough life experience ourselves, we also have written examples of how to treat people, and how not to. MLK teaches us to treat people equally, while Hitler shows how NOT to handle bitterness with a particular race. Jesus teaches us to treat people with love and kindness, while Stalin shows us how to be a murdering jerk. And Lincoln teaches us how to treat people with respect and show honesty, while Bin Laden shows us how to be a real coward. But after all of these things we STILL manage to mess this up on a daily basis. We cheat and we lie and we hurt people regularly. And we convince ourselves the things we do aren’t a big deal. I’m not putting anyone in a gas chamber, so lying to my friend isn’t that deep. But remind yourself of a time you were lied to, and be honest with how deep that hurt really goes. Anytime I sit down to talk to my friends here in Troy, 97% of their stress is not based on actual school or financial problems or health issues. Almost always their problems are rooted in people. Other people trying to survive this life just as we are that somehow can’t manage to treat each other with respect. I appreciate that golden rule of “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”, that’s certainly a valid point and something to be thought about. But let’s take a second. This verse, is found once in the Bible. That’s the only time they bother to bring it up. But in the King James Version of the Bible the word “love” is used 310 times. I certainly think that is a testament as to what our motives should be. Doing unto to others as you would have them do to you, comes from such a selfish place. It’s a good illustration, but it’s easy to confuse why we are acting the way we are. Is this so I don’t get bad Kharma, or do I truly care about how my actions are affecting others? But if we can grasp the concept of love, if we can embed that in our hearts and make that the sole motivation of our being, we could start of revolution. A revolution of people that cared. And it would be weird. People would notice. Because that is not our natural inclination. It’s not a part of human nature. But what if every action we made in a day, was made out of love?  We didn’t lie, because the thought of hurting someone else with false words would break our own hearts. We wouldn’t cheat, because we would love ourselves enough to do things correctly and courageously. There would be no sexual impurity, because we would care about our partner enough to guard his or her mind and soul. There would be arguments, because the need to be right would seem unimportant against the feelings of another person. I think that is why children are so easy. Love IS in their nature. It is as simple as breathing. They radiate purity and wholeness. Being around them heals me. They make me a better version of myself. And I miss that. But I am being called to a greater challenge right now. And that challenge is greater only because of my own flaws and shortcomings. I struggle to connect and understand college kids. And sometimes I get frustrated and want to shake them until they understand. But one of the most exciting things about being here, especially among our campus ministry, is watching people transform and seeing them “get it”, and being a part of a group of people that’s focus is above.  I am in no way doing this living thing perfectly. I know that I fail daily. But I also know that everything starts with a single step. So let’s start a movement of love.

Joy in the trials.

Sometimes, I like to throw myself a pity party. Mind you I try to keep these parties to a minimum, and I tend to only invite a few people, but occasionally I find myself sitting on the floor of somewhere crying over my really not-so-rotten life to some poor soul that is stuck listening to me because they were foolish enough to offer. This person usually ends up being my dad, and because we no longer live within the same house, it’s usually over the phone so he has really no way of escaping. Poor guy. To defend myself, I’m being dramatic. It is very rare that I allow myself to do this. But sometimes, especially as a female, you need to sob and ramble on about every terrible thing that has happened to you over the past five years. Or longer if it’s a real good come apart. So the other day one of these scarce break downs happened upon me and I found myself on the phone with my daddy telling him all about how much I was hurting and how awful it was and after consoling me on the situation for a while my dad finally said, “Well, just another learning experience out of the way.” I of course responded with, “But dad, I’m TIRED of learning experiences..” because I wasn’t quite done feeling sorry for myself, but distance from the conversation, and some healing time, has allowed me to look at that statement and find it to be comforting and even slightly, joyful. How selfish of me not to yearn for “learning experiences”!! Because even during the terrible, awful, no good, very bad ones, you grow. And growth is a beautiful thing. I believe losing Bailey was absolutely essential for my adulthood. That statement in and of itself sounds terrible, but it’s something I am truly convicted in. God used that to prepare me. He taught me things in that horrifying experience that have made my life today, functional. For example, I used to absolutely stink at accepting any form of help. And asking for it? Simply out of the question. When I was dealing with things I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to crawl into my little corner of the universe, take an hour or two to deal with it, and then come out, and move on. And I wanted the whole world to move on with me and not pester me about it. If I said I was fine, I was fine. And for anyone to come in and pet on me or attempt to comfort me or offer me anything of any kind, was offensive to me. I don’t need your help, I didn’t ask for your help, I am not your project, good bye. But when you have a congregation of roughly 750 members all doing their best to give you what you need in EVERY possible form, you learn (QUICKLY) how to graciously accept their advances. I also used to be terrible about acting like things didn’t happen. Especially in any sort of romantic situation. If there was a break up I pretended that person had died. Completely disintegrated into the earth, gone to all those that knew him. And I never dealt with any of my emotions. I just convinced myself and others that I was okay, simply by acting like I was. And then God showed me I couldn’t handle everything in life that way. Then I used to have a really bad habit of feeling as if I always had to look like I had everything put together. That is one I struggle with to this day. I have this ridiculous need to have my perpetual game face on. I must look strong and never weak, because the weak get taken advantage of and the strong are respected. But I have learned there is something beautiful about a humble heart and a broken spirit. And recently, I have adopted a method of self-preservation that has opened my eyes to a completely new world. I don’t always have to do what makes me look confident or like I have it all figured out. I don’t have to win the “who is most over this situation game.”  I am at peace with stepping away from that fight and doing what’s best for me, even if that makes some question my inner strength. Sometimes you have to find your own peace, and be okay if it’s not how everyone else seeks it.  I’ve always laughed at the verse in Romans that says we should rejoice in our sufferings, because it produces endurance. It’s one of those verses that I look up and God and think, “Come on, you’re a smart guy, you can’t actually think we were going to be able to do this, right?” And I can’t say that I have done any rejoicing lately over the fact that Bailey isn’t here. But I will say I have come to a place where I can find joy in her memory, and peace in her death. Contentment in missing her, and confidence that this is exactly how it was supposed to be. I don’t enjoy life’s “learning experiences”. I think it is safe to say that nobody does. But God, my Almighty Father, Creator, and the Great I Am holds me in His righteous hand. And through all the things He has pulled me through, I am confident that He will not fail me today, or tomorrow, or the day after that, or any day to come. And that faith will always bring me the comfort and peace that I need.

Content

I am naturally a happy person. It is not hard for me to find joy in everyday life. I don’t require anything extravagant, the simple fact that I am breathing is enough to make me smile. And for the most part, it’s hard to take that away from me. I have worked on learning not to let others dictate my outlook on a single second, for every second I allow myself to be bitter because of someone else’s actions, I give them the control of my own. Happy is not an issue. My biggest struggle as a human being, is contentment. Many people would believe that those are one in the same, but I believe that they are incredibly different and frankly contentment is a far more difficult state to reach than happiness. The word happy is defined as “delighted, pleased, or glad over a particular thing.” It is impossible for anyone actively involved in the human experience to not have had a moment of happiness. Happiness is not contingent on circumstances, it is simply a feeling created by a particular thing regardless of its surroundings. And because “happy” is a reaction, it can change just as quickly. You can have a moment happiness, but contentment is an actual state of mind. Content is defined as “being satisfied, an eased mind.” Now that’s tough. The past year and a half of my life has been one big decision after another. Do you go to college right after Bay dies, or do you wait? Do you go to Houston, or do you stay? Do you take the Disney internship, or go to school? Do you go back to Troy, or try somewhere different? And each decision has thrown me into completely different cities with completely different people and completely different plans. As difficult as that could be at times, I love change. I feel that if I am always moving, I am always growing. I am terrified of becoming complacent. I never want to become too comfortable, if I am always searching I will always discover, and with discovery comes continued awestruck wonder in my God. But here I am, at 19, and I’m stuck. Confined by superficial expectations and social stigma, going to a four year college to get a degree in “who knows what” to do “who knows what” with my life. And the frustrating part is, I KNOW what this is life is about. I understand and believe with no doubt that the only thing my heart and soul should yearn for is my Lord and Savior. I get that His spirit is my breath and life and all I want to do is praise Him and spend my life encouraging His followers and worshipping Him for all of His greatness. All I want to do from the time I wake to the time I rest is SERVE HIM. But I have to have a degree? I need a resume? And beyond that, this life requires money? And I have to find a way to make money, so that I can pay money, to serve? How incredibly frustrating! So I cry out to God, “I want to be sent, I want to GO, I am ready to go and be that disciple!” But God says, “Wait.” And I respond, “I am tired of waiting!” But God replies, “Be patient.” And I reason with God saying, “You have given me a spirit that is willing to move. I have the heart of a nomad, and I have learned all I can here, send me.” But God says, “Find peace, and be content.” I tend to wander. And when I go on these wandering quests I will walk, sometimes for hours, with these thoughts wrestling themselves in my mind. And lately I have focused these thoughts into prayers and my prayers have become centered around the sole idea of contentment, and what that could mean for my life. I can’t name a time in my life that I can honestly say I was content. I am never satisfied. I am always looking for the next thing and sometimes in spite of my drive and determination, I get ahead of myself and neglect the things that could be worked on now to look into the future on what can come next. My Father knows this. He knit me inside my mother’s womb. He created in me a spirit of fearlessness but allowed Satan to plant the seed of discomfort. And there comes a point when you must put aside your strength, in order to address your weakness. I may not be a huge fan of education, and I may not see that point in it at all. I may be ready to know what my life will look like. But right now, God is calling me to be content. To find ways to grow where He has placed me, rather than look for the next place I can go. To excel in the little things, until He has something bigger set up for me. To allow myself to be satisfied in His spirit, and let the rest fall into place. To ease my mind and shut out the doubts whispered by Satan, and be confident in the person I am being right now, whether I feel I am being extraordinary or not. Extraordinary people are not created by searching for ways to become great, they are found in the moments that greatness was required and they were brave enough to stand. My sister had a way of pouring herself into everything she did. I have a terrible habit on focusing on one thing and being completely perfect in that, but allowing everything else to fall to the side. Not Bailey. She found a way to achieve a balance and because of that, showed Christ in all aspects of her life. So my focus for this semester is just that. Aside from working on my patience, I am praying that I find contentment. And in finding contentment I achieve a balance. A balance that allows me to throw myself into everything I do full force with the simple motivation of showing Christ through it, so that all I do reflects my love and dedication to Him. Only bad part of having Bay around as such a great example is she made it look so easy. Hard to live up to that stinker, but I don’t mind living every day trying.